


grapefruit moon

by dinosuns



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Catharsis, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Future Fic, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Late Night Conversations, Loss, Multi, Pining, Poignant, Post-Canon, Realization, Reconciliation, SHEITH - Freeform, Spoilers, Vignette, allurance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 11:31:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17042939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dinosuns/pseuds/dinosuns
Summary: A resolution with even the minute hints of uncertainty lacks resolve in itself. It’s harder to ignore. Most days, impossible to accept.Keith, understands it to his core. Some questions need to be purged, whispered out from a deserted shack at sunrise, or plucked out shoulder to shoulder with a friend. Some questions like this.“Do you think we could’ve done more?”At the end, Keith pays Lance a visit between missions. He glimpses a beginning.





	grapefruit moon

**Author's Note:**

> if you haven't seen season 8 or know what happens, then this fic is not the one to read - please be warned for spoilers!! 
> 
> i wanted to write something just to process in my own head what happened. hope you enjoy this exploration of friendship and love. i really needed to just get something out to the backdrop of [my favourite song of all time.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=05DplyHKxzM)

“Still on the run, hotshot?”

The joke is nowhere near as loud and animated as their days as paladins. This doesn’t make Keith feel any better about shrugging the bitter sting off. He knows, he knows Lance is right in the implications. Rather than dwell, the amusement lingers. Like warm unfurling embers of a sun that is slowly breathing its last breath, seeing through the days until its end in a way that makes even the night lament its new reign. Exhausted, to be honest. Compared to the light that once blazed in every star, this is tapered down, diluted by the years that stretch beneath their eyes.

Because some victories no matter how triumphant are simply hollow. Finishing the fight came with a price, and those defeated demons took more than should be fair. And it’s in the places that are known the least but hurt the most to those who can see where a victory resounds poignant.

It’s felt by those who were there and those who gave everything - by one carved into stone, a brilliant beautiful stronghold that never wavers. Despite that beacon, sometimes the shadows cast are darker than Keith has seen in the depths of all of space. And sometimes, when he’s back here and he’s really looking at Lance, he glimpses that darkness weathering him.  

“People need help out there,” Keith parts with, eyes hanging lower than the orange sun on the horizon.

Old reverent words that never perished dip beneath his veins. The fire it stoked makes his bones ache. Take that kindness, extend it and pay it forward to others. _Sometimes we all need a hand._ It shouldn’t be bruising, but it is. It has become one of the most frequent visitors in the array of things that haunt him. 

“You know, people need it here too just as much…” Lance ventures.

It’s dangerous, the way his head tilts and his eyes soften knowingly. _You could stay. You could stay and you could be here with the rest of us._ Perhaps that’s what Lance wants to say, or imagines he could say if things were different and if he believed it himself. But those words are lost to silence. To dredge them up when the tide has turned, when they’ve barely made it back onshore, would be unkind. Hopeful, in a way the universe wouldn’t nurture.

They’ve both settled, in ways that for so long have been unspoken.

Keith will help anywhere - but of course that’s an affirmation cleaving him open. It’s one he can’t fulfil, not with the same grit determination and devotion he takes wherever he goes. Because anywhere isn’t the truth, it’s only a small part of it. A very small, very sacred part of something now splintered. The other fragments are beneath his skin, hidden, and they’re burning.

They burn the most when he’s here. So far from it all, but just close enough for the fire to rekindle in his bones.  

“They’ve got you here,” Keith finally says. “That’s enough.”

_But is it enough for you? Is it-_

Their eyes catch, for a moment. It feels like jumping over a chasm and falling into it all at once. Unbidden, timid smiles stretch over lips. This is exposure, a vulnerability that family can tear out of your soul. Keith studies the marks on Lance’s skin, fingers itching to press into the scar on his own face. _I love you. I love you._ Keith clenches a fist, biting down on his lip hard. They’re both painted with unashamed declarations, fierce memories. What they stand for and who they will always stand by.

People they’ve loved for a lifetime and lost.

Eyes wide, Keith averts his gaze. God. Oh god. It’s not the same. Of course it’s not the same. But it’s familiar enough, sad enough. It’s real, so real and so very much something Keith has refused to let himself dwell on. But it’s here. In Lance, the same thing that has clawed its way into him no matter how far he flies and how fast-

“Keith?” Lance breathes, voice low and hushed.

That’s not right, it can’t be. All that concern, it’s misdirected. Blinking back tears, Keith elbows Lance in the chest. It gives him an opening to catch his breath, steady himself. These revelations are raw and too much. Changing the tone, the pace, is desperately needed. It sets them both a little off balance. But that’s no problem, the two of them have become remarkably good at retracing their footing together. Whatever this conversations needs to be, it will be. Keith appreciates it more than he can articulate. The best he can do, is yank his lips up into a smirk and hold it tight.

“I mean, it’s enough so long as you’re not just sitting around milking cows all day.”

“Excuse you! That's rude. Now wait a minute, Keith!”

Laughter ghosts between them, not quite surfacing. Lance nudges back, arm slinging around Keith’s shoulder. Before Keith can play-wrestle his way out, Lance holds him there. It wouldn’t take much to break this, but so much already has been fractured. Just for a second, Keith will indulge this. Let it happen. Lance’s eyes are trained ahead, but Keith doesn’t miss the way his lips have twisted. The arm wrapped around him is shaking. Lance is trembling. _Oh._

“Do you think we could’ve done more?”

Keith stays quiet. It’s not a question he can willingly entertain or answer. Even if the very same words plague him too. Because when Allura tells him of the greatness within him, meets his eyes for the last time, she’s beseeching. Behind each blink, that’s what he sees. A final call for the team she assembled to rise up and push past their limits, not a farewell. He isn’t sure if he remembers it that way because it’s objectively true, or if the grief and guilt put that there to torment him.

To reap a miracle from an unfolding tragedy is one thing.

To consider it when all has been said and done, is an agonising blow that might not ever heal.

“I know Allura wouldn’t want us to feel that way, but I can’t stop thinking about what we could’ve done. If things could’ve been different in the end. Keith, we were supposed to be defenders of the universe…”

As Lance contemplates these things, Keith stays quiet. Because he knows from experience these are not questions that can be answered or explored. Not unless you’re prepared to drag yourself into a pit of despair and get trapped there, staring back at a plethora of realities that exist out of reach.

Still, not knowing is sometimes even worse than knowing. A resolution with even the minute hints of uncertainty lacks resolve in itself. It’s harder to ignore. Most days, impossible to accept.

Keith, with a life built on this and riddled with the desire for _knowledge_ that could fill every empty space in his heart with something _anything_ or nothing at all, really understands that to his core. Some questions need to be purged, whispered out from a deserted shack at sunrise, or plucked out shoulder to shoulder with a friend.

Lance isn’t looking for consolation right now, doesn’t want his grief reduced to sympathy. He just wants it out, needs it out. Somewhere without judgement, or prying eyes. Somewhere private and protected.

“We started it together.”

Arm snaking around Lance’s waist, Keith squeezes lightly. The pressure jolts those vacant eyes back to the present. A wistful smile flickers into existence, Lance looks up at the grey starless sky.

“We should’ve been allowed to finish it together too.”

**\---**

Anywhere else.

That’s the truth.

Keith will help anywhere else, anywhere but here.

**\---**

He stays longer than planned, until the clouds clear and the stars yawn themselves awake. Lance doesn’t question the prolonged company, despite this being an anomaly in the infrequent visits. Instead, he’s sprawled out across the grass. They watch the twinkling night sky above them. Between stolen glances, the quiet soon grows too curious. As if to prove that, a thoughtful look climbs over Lance’s cheekbones. His eyes skate over to Keith.   
  
“Thanks for this.” With the hush broken, their eyes meet slowly. “It’s been a while.”

That’s true. Hearing it out loud gives gravity to time, weight to every moment. But what Lance says next gives more context than Keith thinks he can bear.

“Everyone’s been so busy. You know, I think you’re the first to come visit in months.”

The words are spoken so casually, as if Lance isn’t fully aware of each and every day that passes without the others around. Keith knows better than to undress the remark and expose the things underneath it.

“It’s no problem,” he says, more diplomatic and polite and _distant_ than he intends it to be.

It is a problem. This distance. This strange inexplicable distance. It’s a reminder of the many things Keith has yet to acknowledge or face head on. Time has only made it harder to.

“Yeah sure,” waving a hand, Lance scoffs. “You were only four-thousand gazillion quintants away, but it’s no big deal.”

Biting down a smile, Keith shakes his head fondly.

“I don’t think it works like that, Lance.” The smile sneaks out. Settling down into the grass, Keith leans back on his hands. “But it’s good to see you - really good.”

Eyes narrowing, Lance sits up. The squint is over-exaggerated, but Keith welcomes the melodrama.

“You sound surprised about that.”

“I’m not!” Arms folded, Keith grins. “Well. Actually, now you mention it I-… I’m uh, pretty surprised.”

“Oh _ha-ha-ha_. Very funny,” Lance drawls, slumping back down onto the grass. He’s pouting, and it’s never been a good look for him. Just because it’s Lance and because therefore he can, Keith decides to tease a little more.

“I was being serious.”

“Of course you were.” Nodding with enthusiasm, Lance plays along. Just because. “You were being totally serious.”

“I was.”

“Uh-huh. Whatever you say, Keith.”

“Hey. That’s my line.”

 _“So,_ anyway _.”_

Keith’s gaze sharpens. He knows that tone by this point, knows that look in Lance’s eyes. It’s not quite mischievous, but close enough. Lance has been leading up to this, whatever _this_ is. Now he’s ready to pounce without mercy. All Keith can do now is prepare for whatever is going to come next. Either way, he’s not going to particularly enjoy it.

“Spoken to Shiro recently?”

Despite himself, Keith bristles. It takes every ounce of determination not to roll and turn his back on Lance and his nosy prying. Tracing out the constellations above them, Keith frowns. His heart pulsates uncomfortably between his ribs.

“Not really.”

The admission bruises. Though it’s not even an admission, technically. Because ‘Not really’ is an understatement. A terrible one. Somehow Lance knows that, hears without it being said.

“But you’re Keith and Shiro.”

Funny, Lance says the words as if Keith should know what that means beyond stating the obvious. Their names. Together. Side by side.

“And?”

There’s an edge to it, a bite that hasn’t snapped between his teeth since the war. Keith struggles to swallow past the lump in his throat. He’s not being intentionally dismissive or defensive, but Lance is treading on something he shouldn’t be. It’s not yet been buried or put to rest. How can something of that magnitude be, really. Because Shiro is so important, so very important in ways that are staggering. There’s no real tangible way to describe it, and it’s just as hard to keep it tucked inside his chest.

Set against the stagnant pleasantries barely exchanged in the present, it hurts. People drift apart sometimes, fade from each other. It’s a natural part of life, some say. Maybe in some situations it is. When there’s nothing left to do or say, closing the curtains on the good times is a better end than a disjointed one.

But _that can’t be right._ Not with Shiro, never with Shiro. No. As a kid, Keith saw firsthand how people come and people go. More people walked than stayed in his life. The pattern had become expected. Shiro broke it when he entered, with patience and tenderness Keith had seldom experienced. From the moment their lives became intertwined, Keith had felt it. Supermassive. At first a little terrifying, now all consuming.

Shiro is one of the most intricate and treasured pieces of his life, yet his absence is the biggest.

It’s not his fault. Keith doesn’t blame him or fault Shiro. For the most part, he doesn’t stoop low enough to take a swing and blame himself either. There’s frustration at the outcome of events, confusion things have somehow turned this way. But not blame. Even so-

“It’s not right,” Lance rudely snatches the words from Keith’s mind as if he knew they were there. Unlike Keith, he’s not afraid to speak them. “Does he even know you’re back?”

Keith ducks his head, evading the question. It says more than it should, far more. Shame rises up within his gut, twists sharp and sinks further in. The way Lance asks, it’s almost an accusation of a macabre breed. Shiro doesn’t know, and Keith doesn’t plan on changing that. Not this time, at least. Whether they’ll be a next time, Keith has yet to decide.

There are plenty planets out there that remain unstable, people out there still need help. Voltron might have ended a war, but the remnants persist. There are threats and dangers ever present. It’s not an excuse. Keith never wants choosing the universe, helping people, to seem that way. Because it’s not. But to voice it feels like a betrayal to things he can’t quite name. Not beneath the starlight, on the ground he yearned to belong to.  

“Well he’ll know now!” Taking out his phone, Lance unlocks the screen. Keith’s spine is doused in ice, a shudder rippling through him.

“Wait. Lance! What- what are you doing?!”

He lunges, primal fear jumping up into his mouth and cracking open each word. Lance darts to his feet, Keith close behind. Snatching the phone, Keith glances down at the screen; it’s shaking in his hands. The text window is empty. Relief floods through him, followed closely by remorse. Part of him is glad Lance didn’t actually do it, another louder part of him isn’t. It takes a lot of restraint to keep himself in the corners, to keep away from pictures he knows he can’t really fit into the way he wants. Trying to compromise would be selfish. Shiro deserves better than that.

They both do, really.

Beside him, Lance rubs the back of his neck almost sheepish. He doesn’t apologise, even if his eyes are swathed in wild surprise. It’s as if he didn’t expect such a visceral reaction. Neither did Keith, not after all these years of throwing himself through star system after star system, mission after mission.  

“Man, now I feel like a jerk. That was funnier in my head.”

Prying the phone out of Keith’s hand, Lance sighs. Absently, Keith hums in response. There are bigger things occupying his mind, pressing too close. He realises he doesn’t have Shiro’s number, for starters. It’s frightening, being unsure if that would change anything.

“I wouldn’t have done it, even if I want to just knock your silly heads together. But if Pidge and Hunk were here, they would have. So count yourself lucky.”

 _Lucky._ A humourless laugh escapes Keith’s lips before he can stop it. It’s the last word he would attribute to all of this, any of this. Now that pitiful sound is out in the open, hovering around them, an apology tumbles from his lips. This shouldn’t be about him, not really.

“Sorry,” he starts, more breathless than he should be. Something too close to panic seizes him. “I- I’m sorry, Lance. That wasn’t what I...- it’s not-”

“Holy guacamole. Keith - _Keith,_ it’s fine. Hey, just stop freaking out a second and come here.”

With a gentle tug, Lance draws him into an embrace. The angle is awkward and unpracticed, but Keith sinks into it as best he can. His head rests clumsily on Lance’s shoulder, in a way that’s unnatural. But Lance is trying, and the small circles rubbed into his back are quickly becoming a comfort.

Keith pulls back, chasing Lance’s eyes. They’re the brightest he’s seen them all day. It’s good. But a pang in his chest spurs him to speak. He wants to be sure. Before he leaves. Because now it’s surrounded him, now it’s everywhere and he has to go. _Shiro._

“Are you gonna be okay?”

A curious look crosses Lance’s face at the question. Realisation follows. He knows, he’s figured it out. This is Keith’s goodbye. Hands shoved into his pockets, Lance smiles. Weary and worn, but no less loving. Of course. Keith purses his lips, waiting for the confirmation he’ll struggle to believe. Lance is doing his best, helping and inspiring the next generation. Keith doubts he leaves much time or space for himself, or his own future.  

“Yes and no,” Lance admits. “But mostly yes.”

The honesty of that rings out clear between them.

A hand presses into Keith’s shoulder, then. Keith does his best not to wince at the touch. It’s bittersweet, wrong in ways he can’t articulate. Not to Lance or anyone without stirring a fire he’s hardly managed to smother. The smoke is suffocating. Because above all, the one person that gesture belongs to isn’t here. Keith still doesn’t understand why that is, why it turned out this way. He thinks of Allura’s eyes, the unspoken words, and struggles to keep the choked sob from rising.

She’s right, of course she is. He could call. No great force is holding him back or forbidding it. He could drop by, insert himself into the foreground once more. He could change this strange unfamiliar stalemate stretching between them that makes no sense. He really could. Having Shiro there, being there in each other’s orbit. He’s missed it, _he still misses it_. An urgency swells within, threatening to burst. He feels it explicitly the hole in his chest, the expanse he’s pretended isn’t growing. Shiro belongs there, right here. And if not everywhere, then at least somewhere.

_God._

“Lance, I-” Eyes pressing shut, Keith takes a shaky breath. He steels himself, tries again. “ _Lance._ I need your phone.”

“Booyah!” A fist pumps the air, followed by a set of motions Keith assumes Lance would call dancing. It’s more like undignified shuffling. “Now that’s my main man talking!”  

“Don’t ever say any of that again.” It’s without heat, more out of habit.

Pressing the phone into his hand, Lance smoothes a thumb over the skin. The touch is soothing, enough assurance for Keith’s fingers to slide more confidently towards the call button.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” Something swirls in his chest, heart racing. His gaze flicks up to the stars. “I'm sure.”

The number is dialled. On the second ring, it picks up.

Keith doesn’t hear a voice, he hears every fibre of the universe finally reconnecting.


End file.
